


Balcony brooding

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One poor balcony, Romantic Sunrise, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, kinky smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: They watch the sunrise after Oliver woke from a bad dream. With something more fun in between.





	Balcony brooding

**Author's Note:**

> Not proofread on initial posting but I'll work on that whoops

"Are you alright, Ollie?"

Barry made sure to ask before approaching Oliver on the balcony. Oliver most likely heard him coming, but if he was too deep in thought and he didn't... Barry didn't want to startle him. That would end badly for everyone involved.

"I'm fine," Oliver answered curtly while Barry wrapped his arms around his chest. Oliver was wearing nothing but the boxer briefs that Barry had discarded on the floor for him hours earlier, and it was very early morning. The first birds were waking up in the trees beneath them, but there was no sign of the sun coming up just yet.

Barry leaned his head on Oliver's shoulder, flattening his palms on cold, sweaty skin. "I'll be here for you when or if you want to talk about it," he promised quietly.

Oliver didn't respond to that verbally, but a hand grasped one of Barry's to give it a grateful squeeze.

From their balcony they could see the first signs of the day starting stirring in the city. The people who had very early shifts, times normal working folk were still fast asleep, were slowly coming out, travelling to their jobs. Baristas, bus drivers, newspaper boys. No criminals at least, not at this ungodly hour.

They enjoyed each other's presence quietly, watching the sleepy city stirring. Oliver's strong back was warm and pleasant against Barry's chest, his heartbeat comforting under his hands. Whatever had woken Oliver up, he had calmed down enough to stand here peacefully, none of the tension in his body that Barry knew was there after a nightmare woke him.

Barry couldn't even start to comprehend the sort of nightmares Oliver would be having. Barry had managed to get a lot of stories from those five years out of Oliver, but he knew those could only graze the true horror of being there and living it.

He knew that much from experience. He did not envy what Oliver's had been through.

An unexpected shiver ran up Barry's spine, his shoulders shaking for a second at the cold. The days had been hot lately, but the pre-sunrise air had a cold breeze up here.

"I'm gonna wrap myself back into our warm bed," he told Oliver, his voice low and lazy. "Wanna join me there, handsome?"

Oliver hummed thoughtfully, then arched his neck to look at Barry's face. Barry pulled his head from his lover's shoulder to show him a soft smile, hoping that would be what Oliver was looking for.

"I have a better idea."

Barry knew that tone. He knew it and he _loved_ it.

"Really now?" he purred, loosening his grip on Oliver to let the other turn around, facing him in the embrace. Barry marvelled at the roll of muscles under skin, the textures of scars, hair and smooth skin passing under his touch. His fingers curled against Oliver's shoulder blades when their lips met, soft and slow.

It wasn't cold in Oliver's arms, even if they were both in their underwear and out on the balcony. Pressed up against that strong chest, enveloped in those arms and _god, those lips_ , Barry wouldn't have noticed if a blizzard would start up right about now. He did however notice the careful slide of fingertips down his spine, hands tucking into his briefs to softly grope his cheeks.

So soft and gentle, Barry would almost believe that this was all Oliver meant to do: lazily making out together in the early morning darkness, enjoying the cool air and the chirping of birds.

Almost.

Barry's breath hitched when Oliver's fingers pressed on either side of his hole. Dry fingers, no way for them to penetrate, but that wouldn't stop Oliver from teasing.

"Want to move in to the lube?" Barry asked, breathless now.

"I think the lube can move to us faster," Oliver dared him mildly, and Barry grinned in response. He was never to back out of a dare like that.

Only when he was back in Oliver's arms, a bottle of lube now pressed into one of Oliver's hands, that Barry realised he'd been played into doing this outside. The thought made a heavier shudder run through him, this one not from cold but from arousal.

They were pretty high up in the building, but their balcony had open an open balustrade with widely placed balusters. If the people down on the street would look up, they would definitely be able to see what was going on here.

There were very few people up and about at this hour, so Barry took the spike of dread and arousal in stride, melting against Oliver's chest when the fingers came back down into his underwear, this time slick with lube while prodding at his hole.

"I knew you'd like this," Oliver teased, letting his thigh twitch slightly against Barry's hard erection to indicate what he meant.

"I was always weak for pervy old men," he quipped in return, words that were punished - rewarded? - with a finger sliding into him halfway. Barry stifled a gasp, hiding his face in the nape of Oliver's neck and twitching his hips back, trying to get more of that finger inside of him.

He was given more, but only after Oliver tugged his briefs down a little, hooking the garment under the swell of his butt to give him more and easier space to work his finger into Barry, a second finger following immediately now there was space.

Barry squirmed, trying to get more while simultaneously wanting to press closer into the comfort of Oliver. Oliver was like a wall, hard and ungiving, but warm and safe and _fingering his arse_ , and it was so hard to decide which way to push every single time. He ended up pressing his chest as close as he could and arching his back to get as much of the fingers at the same time.

"Faster," he whispered, shy despite himself. They _were_ out on the balcony, no matter how unlike it was for people to look up and see. "More?"

"Why so shy, my dear?" Oliver teased, pushing the two fingers in deep to rub the pads against the most sensitive spot, all but rubbing his prostate dead on. Barry gasped and whined, hips bucking involuntarily while he clung to Oliver for dear life. His knees buckled, and it was all he could do to keep standing. "I thought you were loving this? Don't worry, nobody is watching. They could, but they're not."

Barry only whimpered in response, not knowing what to say to that. Unable to vocalise any words with Oliver massaging his prostate like that, even if he _had_ known what to say.

"Don't believe me?" Oliver feigned shock, as if Barry had answered. "Here, see for yourself."

Oliver swirled them around, and then Barry was pressed against the balustrade, fingers scrabbling to hold on to the edge. He heaved air in shock, eyes widening in realisation that he was looking out over the city rather than pressed up safely against his lover. He was facing the world and their judgement and he now had three fingers up his arse, his cock hard and leaking where it jutted out between the balusters.

"O-Ollie," he whined, eyes closed as if it would hide him from the world. He still moved his arse back, thrusting against each press of fingers, hungry for more despite his embarrassment.

"Come on, Barr, _look_. Nobody is paying attention to you and your sweet noises up here."

Barry didn't want to look. He couldn't look. There was no way in hell he was opening his eyes and looking at people walking on the streets below while Oliver was fingering him.

But he still did it, because Oliver told him to.

He was whimpering while he blinked his eyes open, lashes fluttering shyly for nobody to see, nobody to tempt into having mercy on him, just the view from the balcony over the city. People were down in the street, but none of them were looking up. They all seemed in a hurry to get this way or that, walking to their cars or hurrying with a cup of coffee from the coffee shop across the street, or urging their dogs to stop sniffing at every pole so they could get back home. Everyone in a hurry to get to work, nobody lingering to look up at the high apartment building and the lewd thing the inhabitants were up to.

The fingers pulled out and Barry was shaking in anticipation, his knuckles white in his tight grip on the balustrade. Oliver didn't hesitate, didn't pause, just pressed his cock in slow and steady just like Barry liked it, holding Barry's hip tightly in place.

Barry shook, trembled, writhed. Barry cried out weakly, his hips bucking as soon as Oliver's grip on him allowed it.

"You're beautiful like this," Oliver praised, voice low and intimate despite their overly public location. "Just you, sweaty and coming undone at the seams, against the dark sky. Artists call this the blue hour, just before sunrise. You are a piece of art right now, Barr."

Barry whimpered more for that, one hand reaching back to grab at Oliver's hip, nails scratching lightly in his urgency.

"Ollie, Ollie please, Ollie-"

"Yes, just like that," Oliver purred in his ear, his hips snapping once, twice, hard thrusts that made Barry taste his very teeth. "Beg for me, you beautiful man. Show the world you're mine."

Barry's eyes flew open again - when had he even closed them? - wildly searching the street below for anyone who might be watching.

_There was one._

One single woman stood down on the street, holding a paper coffee cup in one hand and a briefcase in the other. She stood there, staring up at them.

And where one person was looking up, more were soon to follow.

"O-Ollie!" This time when Barry cried out he wasn't sure if it was alarm or arousal himself. But his cock throbbed and he could feel his balls pulling closer to his body, be it in fear or if he was about to cum just from being watched. He almost missed how Oliver changed his stance, but then his lover was pounding into him hard and fast, grunting softly into Barry's ear.

_Barry couldn't stop looking at the woman down below._

Oliver was probably watching as well. He had his chin hooked over Barry's shoulder, where he would normally be sucking hickeys in a race against Barry's speedy healing. His groans were too aroused, too breathy, much more so than usual.

"She wants you," Oliver declared with a rough voice, and finally turned his head to bite the shell of Barry's ear. "Show her you're mine."

Barry cried.

Barry moaned.

Barry whimpered and whined while his hips bucked helplessly, spurts of semen shooting through the balustrade and far down while he had the most amazing orgasm he'd had in months - and that was saying something, with Oliver as his lover. Heat of deep embarrassment, _humiliation,_ rose to his cheeks when he realised what he just did, that the woman was now looking down as if searching for his spent, and his knees gave out on him completely. He slumped back against Oliver while his lover gave his last few thrust before he was growling his release against Barry's ear, hips pumping lightly while he rode out his orgasm.

Barry could barely breathe, but he could see the sun rising over the city with Oliver's cock buried deep in his arse. He didn't look down for his audience again, just at the horizon for the beauty of it.

The cool air made him shiver, but strong arms wrapped around him from behind, his sweaty back pressed snugly up against an equally sweaty chest.

"I love you," Oliver murmured in his ear, and Barry sighed happily.

"I love you too, Ollie."


End file.
